


A toast to you...

by Ecc0craft



Series: Weird Science [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: David Bowie music, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Goodbyes, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lonely Christmas, Moira needs a hug, Non-Romantic Relationship, Terminal Illnesses, misunderstood geniuses, science friends, villains need love too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 19:10:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13037577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ecc0craft/pseuds/Ecc0craft
Summary: “So that’s it then,” Moira says with a turn of the head. “You’re leaving us.”“With my condition it won’t be long before I am nothing more than a liability.”





	A toast to you...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thiefofbluefire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiefofbluefire/gifts).



> So I wrote this as a present to Thiefofbluefire...Merry Christmas. It’s pretty sad, I’m here to make your Christmas sad.

“So that’s it then,” Moira says with a turn of the head. “You’re leaving us.”

“With my condition it won’t be long before I am nothing more than a liability.” The man across from her places another stack of notes into a briefcase. Just like Klein to keep the hard copies of his research instead of the digital ones, he’s always been an old fashioned person for one who claims to be a futurist. 

The papers are numerous drawings of robotic limbs and circuits. A few designs Moira recognizes are armor pieces for agent Shimada. There are others she knows are prototypes for his own prosthetics and some that are just scribbles of his random thoughts. She doesn’t miss a pencil sketch of herself before he closes the briefcase with a click.

“How bad is it?” Moira asks. Klein had been fine only a few weeks before, surely it wasn’t as bad as he was saying.

As if fate wanted to illustrate a point, Klein coughs and covers his mouth with a handkerchief. Blood has already begun to stain it. “My lungs are torn to ribbons, they say I have six months...at the most.” He chuckles, raspy and painful. “I could drop dead tomorrow for all I know. I want to get out of here just in case.”

“You don’t have to leave, Sebastian...there are people here that can help you.” Moira frowns, gesturing to herself.

Klein frowns back, shaking his head. “No one can help me with what I’ve got.” He says curtly but his eyes soften. “Not even someone as brilliant as you.”

“You won’t know that unless you let me try!” Moira grumbles. “You are giving up without a fight!”

“The fight is already over, Moira.” Klein snaps. “I fought...I lost. Now I’d like to depart with some dignity...not wired up, poked and prodded like one of your rabbits.”

He turns to leave but she blocks his path. She is taller than he is and he has to crane his neck to look into her eyes. One is brown the other is blue, beautiful and unique. He scrunched up his nose, reading in them that she is not going to let him go.

“Is that what you think you are to me? A test subject?” She asks coldly to disguise her hurt.

Klein sighs and takes her hand in his own. Hers is miss colored, veins dark and visible from testing on herself. His is robotic with a carbon fiber shell that he made himself. His fingers are warm despite being prosthetic and he gives her hand a squeeze.

“That is not what I meant.” He says reassuringly. “You are the closest thing I have to a friend...I only meant that I want to still live my life for as long as I can. If I try and stop the inevitable now, I won’t be living just trying not to die. Besides, I have several projects that I can probably finish if I start now.”

“You’re selfish...” Moira grumbles, but there would be no changing Klein’s mind, she knows that much. She clears her throat, letting go of his hand and placing hers to cup his face. Anyone else would have flinched at the contact, her self experiments left her hand cold. Her research in general caused people to run in the opposite direction. But not him, NEVER Sebastian. “...At the end, I want to be there for you. Send word and I will come.”

Klein moves a step back and shakes his head sadly. “You don’t want to see me like that...” He starts but then rephrases. “I don’t want you to see me like that. I want you to remember the man with the inventive mind not the sickly wretch that I will become. Give me that, Moira...please. From one mad scientist to another.”

With a reluctant sigh Moira stands aside. “I suppose that this is farewell.” She says quietly.

“Yes...” Klein’s eyes light up briefly and he returns to his desk like he has forgotten something. He reveals an unopened bottle of red wine. The expensive kind, from France. “I saved this.” He says with a grin. “I was planning on cracking it open for Christmas...but I want you to have it.”

“We should open it now, drink it together.” Moira says as she takes the bottle.

“Afraid it would be wasted on me.” Klein shrugs. “But I suppose one glass would be alright...”

Moira grins and moves to her station to retrieve two glasses. They aren’t proper wine glasses, more like chemistry beakers but they don’t care. She pops off the top of the bottle and pours a glass for herself and for Klein.

Klein takes his glass and gives it a swirl, smelling the fragrant aroma. Moira does the same, the wine is indeed fine it must have cost a small fortune. Amazing that Klein could afford such a thing.

“A toast to you, Moira O’Deorain, May you succeed in your quest for knowledge.” Klein says. “Someday your research will change the world.”

“Change the world and unlock the truth.” She answers. Klein gives a melancholy smile and they both take a sip. Moira savors the rich flavors tasting the age on her tongue but it becomes apparent that Klein tastes nothing. He acts like it doesn’t bother him.

“As long as you enjoy it my dear, I am content.” They share a silence before Klein says, “Perhaps I shall visit for Christmas, we can share another glass.”

Moira smiles just for wishful thinking. “I’d like that...”

After finishing his wine and picking up his briefcase, Klein walks out of the office. “It’s a date then.” He smiles and then is gone.

 

Christmas Eve 

 

Angela stumbles back to her lab after the Watchpoint Christmas party got a little too noisy. Once Reinhardt and Torbjorn got drinking no one could hear their own thoughts let alone each other. When Reyes broke out the beer pong, Angela thought it was time to retire for the evening.

She is surprised to see that the lab is empty. Moira had said she would be working on a project until late in the evening but she is nowhere in sight.

There is the quiet sound of a melody playing in her office but it doesn’t sound like the traditional Christmas tracks. Not that Moira of all people would listen to Christmas music anyway.

Curious, Angela tip toes to the source of the music and listens in. It’s David Bowie, Moria’s favorite, but it is somber and melancholy. Lazarus, the last song the artist ever did. Unfortunately the door creaks when Angela leans against it and Moira is alerted to her presence. Moira looks up and raises an eyebrow as Angela stumbles in.

“Oh, Merry Christmas, Moira. Sorry, I was just wondering where you were...I thought you were working.” Angela says apologetically.

“I was.” Moira answers. There is something in her eyes, an emotion that Angela has never seen from her.

“Are...are you alright?” Angela asks as she fidgets with her coat sleeve. Moira has always been an intimidatingly private person, taking to her makes Angela nervous.“If you need to talk, I’m a good listener.”

Moira shrugs and places the rim of a wine glass to her lips. “You’re very kind, Ziegler...” She says distantly. She pursues her lips looking off into space. “Have you ever met someone Who understood you in ways you didn’t think possible? They knew your strengths and your weaknesses, but to you that was almost…comforting?” Angela remains silent so Moira continues. “And you understood them in the same way and they were not afraid of what you could do with that understanding?”

Angela is quiet, not really having an answer for such a cryptic question. “I...can’t say that I have.” She says uncertainty.

“Of course not.” Moira scoffs. “You’re our guardian angel, no one has ever been afraid of you...” There is a bitterness to her words that tells Angela that she’d rather be left alone.

“I’m sorry I bothered you.” Angela says as she closes the door.

Moira nods her head and sips her wine. The song she is listening to comes to an end. Bowie’s haunting voice echoes before fading out completely. She sits there in the silence and allows her mind to settle.

“A toast to you, Sebastian Klein, may your legacy live on.” She says as she raises her glass to the empty chair across from her. “Happy Christmas, my friend.”

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to ‘Lazarus’ by David Bowie and try not to cry.


End file.
